


When You Put Things Into The Same Set, They Don't Always Fit Together Neatly

by printfogey



Category: Gintama
Genre: Amnesia, Bondage, Don't copy to another site, Ginzura - Freeform, Ginzura Week 2019, M/M, Rain, TakaGin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-06 03:26:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19054294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/printfogey/pseuds/printfogey
Summary: A collection of three unrelated Gintama shortfics.The first and third piece are Gintoki/Katsura fics, both set at unspecified generic canon points. No spoilers beyond backstory reveals from the Benizakura arc.The second piece is a (rather messed-up) Gintoki/Takasugi, set early in canon during the amnesia arc. No spoilers beyond that arc.Further information on each piece is given in the Author's Notes for the first one, and the chapter summaries for the other two.





	1. The Rain Is Best Observed From Under A Roof (Gintoki/Katsura)

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER FOR THE WHOLE COLLECTION: These characters are owned by their creator Hideaki Sorachi. They are used here without permission only. The content in this fic collection is for entertainment only and may not be used for profit in any way. It should not be reposted elsewhere without the writer's consent, particularly not to any site using ad revenue.
> 
> Constructive criticism and other feedback is heartily accepted!
> 
> AUTHOR'S NOTE for the first fic: I wrote this for Ginzura 2019, prompt "Rain". Set at an unspecified generic canon point. No spoilers.

The rain hung in the air for half a day before letting loose, first coming down in a great rush, as if in a hurry to catch the lunch crew; then eventually slowing down into a gentle but steady downpour. It was still april, and the rainy season wouldn't arrive for over a month yet. But the humid air felt close enough to the real deal for Gintoki, who’d been out doing some spying for a client and now took the rest of the day off after his target had left the city.

He stopped by a café and scrounged up enough money to pay for a cup of hot cocoa to warm up. And as it happened it turned out Zura was there as well, sitting quietly on his own by the open window. When Gintoki decided to risk some annoyance (it might even give him some energy, not that he’d admit that) and sat down in the opposite seat, Zura looked up from his cup of tea and matcha cake and said, “Oh, it’s you.”

Then he asked about everyone’s health, offered up that he’d just moved again and Elizabeth had gone through a spring cold but was fine now, tried to interest Gintoki in buying some frightful “Jôi Energy Bar”, and went back to watching the rainy scene outside in silence. There were two young trees in front of the café, flush with new green leaves. Even with the window opened, all the sounds of the city were muffled.

It gave Gintoki a strange mixed feeling, seeing Zura look out at the gentle spring rain in that manner. Half of it felt so familiar, so tangible it was downright intimate, as close to his skin as the humid air that came in through the window. Half of it felt distant, so faraway it was almost otherworldly... even though just a couple of minutes ago Gintoki had kicked him in the face for the stupid energy bar and Zura had viciously pinched him in return.

It was a familiar kind of farawayness, though, one he associated with Zura only. It made him think of old quiet afternoons together with Sensei and the other two, rain coming down on the wooden roof; it made him picture watercolour paintings and calligraphy, of all things. And it made him feel, a little, like Zura had become someone you shouldn’t touch, someone set apart, more like a distant figure in a painting than a flesh and blood person right there.

This kind of moment always made him uncertain if what he really wanted to do was reach out and touch the guy and destroy the spell, or to sit still and just watch him, giving into the ambience. The third option was to just look away, but that was oddly tough. His eyes stayed stupidly glued on Zura’s face – and that should have annoyed him, because it was just Zura, after all, and Gintoki had known him to look all poetic like that only to open his mouth and say something unbelievably loony and dumb the next second. Somehow he couldn't quite work up his way to real annoyance, though.

A part of him wished Zura would in fact say something dumb like that right now: another part wanted to stay like this for just a little longer. He drank slowly from his hot cocoa, caught in that hazy but quiet uncertainty of rainy day moments.

 

*

Katsura was looking out at the rain, lost in thoughts. There was something about a quiet spring rain that made the world seem so fluid to him, blurring the boundaries of the years. He remembered struggling as a young child to find shelter, when he’d been wandering the roads with Granny; he also remembered remembering those days later on as an older child, lonely in his empty house yet grateful to have a roof over his head. He remembered the pitter-patter of rain on the roof of the temple school, Sensei proclaiming a break so all the kids could come closer together, have tea and eat a bit to feel warmer. He remembered being the one to make the tea in times when it was just the four of them, sitting by the porch and looking out at rain and green fields, the other two boys often wrapped in blankets to get dry.

He also remembered battles held in the rain, defeats and retreats and hard-won victories, but the rain wasn’t soft and gentle in those memories.

And he remembered digging graves, in the rain...

Then there was an grumbling noise close by, and Katsura blinked, being brought back to the café. Right, Gintoki was here. Leaning his elbow on the table, chin in palm, and looking at Katsura all disgruntled for some odd reason.

“What?” asked Katsura, frowning.

“What what? I didn’t say anything.”

“It sounded like you wanted to,” Katsura pointed out.

“Hnf. You’re letting your tea go cold, moron.”

“Oh…? Oh, I guess I was.” He drank the tea quickly before it could get colder. Then he added, “I was just thinking of certain idiots who never had the sense to come in out of the rain. All those times I’ve been chasing after them with umbrellas and jackets… And then you would come home and fall sick anyway.”

“Oi oi, that’s all back in the past! Don’t get hung up on the past like a tiresome wife who can never let her husband live down when he forgot their third anniversary.” Gintoki held up a mint green umbrella. “See? I brought this when I left home, since I listened to Ana Ketsuno’s weather report. I came prepared. Anyway, it’s not my fault you’re too dumb to catch colds and I’m not.” But while he was saying that, Katsura felt his foot under the table sneak up towards his ankle, rubbing against it.

“And nobody ever told you to do all of that, either,” Gintoki added, his foot now playing with Katsura’s sandalled foot before moving further up the side of his leg. “Face it, Zura, you don’t know what to do with yourself when you can’t mother anyone.”

“It’s not Zura, it’s Katsura,” said Katsura, feeling his cheeks grow warmer. He took hold of Gintoki’s sleeve, holding it with just two fingers. Not touching his hand directly, that would be too demonstrative in public and broad daylight – just doing his part in reflecting the action underneath the table with a more subdued version above it. “I’m glad you understand, then,” he said, schooling his voice to cloak his underlying delight.

“I didn’t say that!” protested Gintoki. Well, true, he hadn’t, but he also hadn’t taken the opportunity to rail against that same tendency of Katsura’s, which coming from Gintoki was more or less a tacit approval.

“With the way you are, Gintoki," he pointed out triumphantly, "it’s not like I’ll ever get a chance to put that statement to the test."

He had no idea why the weather had seemed to put Gintoki in a frisky mood, but he was happy to take advantage of it. After sending Elizabeth a text asking her if she would terribly mind go see a movie for the next three hours, he stood up and took his umbrella. “You haven’t seen my new flat yet, right?” he asked Gintoki. The one good thing about moving so often was that you had a ready excuse to invite people over.

“Probably ain’t much to look at,” said Gintoki rudely, but got up on his feet and followed him outside. “That new?” he added, glancing at Katsura’s purple umbrella.

“That’s right!” said Katsura brightly. “Looks a bit like Leader’s, doesn’t it?”

Gintoki shrugged, picking his nose. “I guess. That’s why you bought it?”

“Yes! To be reminded of her youthful exuberance and fortitude whenever I use it!”

Gintoki smiled at that. Perhaps he had been thinking of someone else who was fond of purple. Well, no need to dwell on that guy right now.

Underneath the umbrella, the soft rain sounded more vivid and energetic than from inside the café. The two umbrellas jostled each other on the narrow Kabuki street, close together under the darkening sky.


	2. Even Model Employees Make Unwise Decisions (Takasugi/Gintoki, sort of)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I happened to start pondering what might have happened if Gintoki had happened to run into Takasugi back in the Amnesia Arc, in those days when he had lost his memory, was disgusted about what he heard of himself, and left Odd Jobs to become a factory worker making Justaways. And he'd also forgotten how to fight (or at least, he forgot the fact that he is a very strong fighter).
> 
> This is what I came up with. It turned out shippy, but not in any happy way: this is early-series Takasugi, and I found it hard to picture him reacting more benevolently.

Sakata knows this was a bad idea. He shouldn’t have agreed to go out drinking in this bar, even if it’s Sunday tomorrow and the factory will be closed. He should have left when his coworkers did, not stay a little longer to finish his drink. And he should definitely have tried harder to avoid the notice of the man who sits across the table from him now, drinking and smoking, currently in silence.

The man is wearing a monk’s get-up, the broad-brimmed hat he came in with placed on the table now. But he’s slipped and showed glimpses of fine, expensive-looking silk worn underneath the monk robe: Sakata hadn’t thought his old self knew any rich people. It’s unsettling. Everything about this man is unsettling: the bandages that cover one of his eyes; his easy, casual posture; his deep voice as he spoke earlier, radiating hostility; his initial maliciously sly expression; and how it changed into an unsmiling, blanker, less readable expression that seems even more menacing, once he realized Sakata wasn’t lying about losing his memory.

When Sakata finally gets up and leaves the man follows, his steps sounding easy, unhurried, yet relentless. He doesn’t _want_ to remember this one. Just thinking he might do so makes him feel like there's a mass of cold air that goes through his spine, and something twists deep in his stomach.

They haven’t gone long when the man suddenly grabs hold of Sakata and shoves him violently up against a wall. His fingers are digging into Sakata’s flesh, his muscles tremendously strong. His eye is wild, now, no longer calm like in the bar, burning with fury –- no, it's more than fury. Hatred.

“How pathetic are you, Gintoki? You've even forgotten how to fight.” the man snarls. A savage smile flashes over his face; his hand lands over Sakata’s throat, tightens. “I could kill you so easily when you’re like this. So – very – easily. Do you know that?” He loses the smile, leaning closer, standing on his toes. “Is there a part of you who understands that?” Then he loosens the grip on the throat, instead grabbing hold of one of his arms, twisting it – Sakata yelps from the pain and surprise – and elbows him in the stomach, before smashing him against the wall again.

“Oh, it’s so nice to go and lose your memory like that, isn’t it?” he goes on in a mocking tone. “Just get lost in the mist and not have to be yourself. As if you have the fucking right to.” His voice loses the mocking tone as he spits, “How dare you, Gintoki! How dare you go and hide yourself in your mind like this!”

Sakata doesn’t understand. All he gets is this: he must have once hurt this man terribly. Maybe it was complicated. Maybe it was mutual. But despite the pain from the man's rough treatment, the fear has receded. What he feels the strongest now is an odd sense of obligation.

The only thing he can think of to do is to grab the man by his shoulders, lift him up and kiss him. He tastes of expensive tobacco and cheap beer. He doesn’t smell unpleasant.

After he lets go, the man stares at him for a moment, then closes his eyes and gives a short laugh, not a pleasant one. Sakata has the time to wonder if he just signed his own death warrant. Then the man kisses him back, violently, biting him. One hand pins Sakata in place against the wall, the other starts roaming under his jacket and shirt, pinching and stroking.

“I’ll show you,” the man mutters. “I’ll fucking show you you can’t just do that.”

Sakata feels a jolt of arousal mingled with pain and opens his mouth to accepts another rough kiss. He doesn’t protest, and when he’s allowed to move, he applies what gentleness he can.

He’s sure his former self would be appalled at his meekness. It occurs him to wonder if that man really is deep inside his mind now, if he can see this happening, can sense it. He finds, spitefully, that he wants him to.


	3. Using Sloppy Knots Is Disrespectful To The One Tied Up (Gintoki/Katsura)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this shortfic for Ginzura Week 2019 as well, for the prompt "Touch". Or more accurately I finished it up in time to be posted then, as I'd had the idea for a good while now: Gintoki and Katsura try out bondage, but Gintoki feels that something isn't right.  
> Flavour: Silly.
> 
> Many thanks to [Tonko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonko) for doing beta for this piece! Any remaining errors are my responsibility alone.

Gintoki tugged at the ropes and nodded to himself. Not too loose and not too tight. Zura’s hands were tied together securely at his back, almost at a professional level. Just as you could expect from an Odd Jobs man!

He let a finger trail up and down the side of Zura’s neck, then down to the shoulder, collarbone and heading for his left nipple, where it slowed down and stopped.

Something here wasn’t right.

He took a look around the room, first. Zura’s current place with Elizabeth out of the way right now and no risk of getting surprised by loud and violent brats or dogs or glasses (only by the bloody police), check. Then at himself: undressed down to his becoming boxer shorts, fairly clean, hot stuff as usual, check. Zura sitting tied up in front of him, also undressed to boxer shorts (no loincloth for once), ones that were less becoming, with their pattern of tiny Elizabeths, but that was ignorable. No, it wasn’t that, but…

“...Why are you looking at me like that?”

Zura blinked. “Like what?”

Gintoki scratched his head, frowning. "All… benevolently. Like… like I'm some low-level prison official who you're good-naturedly humouring right now but you'll turn around and escape in a moment." He pointed at him, “You know, you were the one who suggested we try some bondage in the first place. So… At least _try_ to get with the program, here!” Gintoki was feeling embarrassed now and wasn’t sure why, his cheeks heating up. Dammit, Zura was the one who ought to be embarrassed, if anyone.

Zura huffed and turned his nose up. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I wasn't doing anything of the kind.” His eyes narrowed. “Gintoki… are you getting nervous? You did say you’d done this before. Were you just bragging?”

Gintoki waved one hand back and forth. “No! I’ve done it, uh, at least three times. That I can remember. But… twice was with professionals, so they walked me through it. I guess. And I was pretty drunk the third time.”

“Oh. Ladies of the night,” said Zura knowingly.

Gintoki rolled his eyes. “One of them was a guy of the night, but whatever. But… You don’t even know you’re doing it, are you?”

“I told you, I wasn’t even thinking that!” said Zura, looking annoyed. “If you have to know, I was thinking that you look adorable right now and I want to fluff your hair.”

Gintoki groaned and leaned his head to rest on Zura’s shoulder. “Shoulda known you wouldn't get into it. Now you're just in Terrorist Mode,” he complained.

“That's nonsense.” There was some pink on Zura’s cheeks as well now, although Gintoki had no idea if he knew he’d been found out and was embarrassed or if he was having some kind of dumbass daydream involving fluffy animals.

“No, no! You're being all…” Gintoki fought to put his complaint in words, “...like, you’re all patronising. Like some kindly old geezer who's the king of pachinko offering to show the hapless new guy the ropes…. Well, so to speak.”

Zura gave him a head-to-head tap -- too soft to be called a headbutt but too forceful for a mere nudge. "It’s unbecoming of you to blame someone else for your own nervousness,” he said haughtily. “Were you ever even the one tied up before?”

“Yes, once! And I had the decency to get into it!” Actually, Gintoki couldn’t remember it all that well, but at least he was pretty sure he hadn’t looked like a benevolent captive just biding his time till he could outsmart the authorities. Zura wasn’t supposed to bring his terrorist shtick into the bedroom, dammit.

Zura opened his mouth, but then closed it again, his expression changing from petulant to thoughtful. “Well… Do you want to do it instead, then?”

Gintoki gave Zura another weary look, then ran a finger up and down Zura's neck right under his ear. “Do what?”

Zura giggled. “That tickles!” But then he cleared his throat and assumed a more serious demeanour. “To be the one tied up. I thought it would be rather exciting, being at your mercy like this, but now all I can think of is how I'd like to touch you in this way and that.” His cheeks were pink.

Gintoki picked his nose, thinking. “Actually, I think that’s kind of the point. That you can’t touch and you want to.”

“Oh, like a self-discipline thing?” said Zura, sounding as if it was a matter of light intellectual curiosity.

“No, no, more of a contrast, you know? God, I can’t explain it. Why are you like this?” he grumbled. Still… maybe there was something to the suggestion after all. Zura was good with his hands and would also know how to tie good knots. But could he be trusted not to do something idiotic? _Well, then again, can I be?_ Plus, Gintoki knew from experience that under the right circumstances Zura could be _very_ hot when he was in charge.

Zura continued, cheeks even pinker now, “And now I've started thinking of things I could do to you if _you_ were the one tied up. So… I thought, well, if I got all that Gintoki-touching out of the way, and you were up for Round Two afterwards, we could go back to doing it the original way.” His tone was suspiciously reasonable. If his hands had been free, Gintoki would almost expect a pointer and a helpful diagram. “We have all night this time,” he added. “Elizabeth is on an overnight mission.”

Gintoki put an elbow on Zura's shoulder and gave him his usual half-lidded look. “Zura. You know that nobody _has_ to be tied up, right? This isn't some kind of task we have to get through and check off in order to get a badge.” But then he closed his eyes, a smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. “And I dunno if we should plan for Round 2 when we’re usually too tired to have one. Yeah, that goes for you, too. Don't start.”

“There's nothing wrong with being an optimist!” Zura paused, putting his head at an angle. Oh no, he looked way too stupidly cute like that… “So… what do you think?” Now he did sound a little nervous, finally. “Honestly, I don’t mind it either way.”

Gintoki changed his grip to a one-armed hug, leaning close, kissing Zura slowly. “Yeah, it's fine. Dumbass. You’ve got me curious now, so why not? Let’s try it the other way.” A few moments later, he felt him shift and wriggle under his arms; and then, finally, a hand going through his hair, fluffing it and rubbing his scalp with a small noise of satisfaction.

Gintoki let out a puff of air in exasperated fondness, then sat back, ready to be the expectant one.


End file.
